


The Black Rose

by persephoneregina



Series: Blood Moon Saga [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band), ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Blood and Gore, Brothel Owner Hongjoong, Coming Untouched, Corpses, Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, Ex Sex, Exes, Gang Leader Seonghwa, Gang Leader Youngjo, Gangs, Gangsters, Graphic Description, Grinding, Gun Kink, Gun Violence, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Hitman Mingi, Implied/Referenced Torture, Knife Play, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prostitution, Psychological Torture, Rival Sex, Scars, Sex, Shooting, Smut, Spit As Lube, Violence, cross-ships, former lovers to lovers, murders, tummy bulge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephoneregina/pseuds/persephoneregina
Summary: The living room of the penthouse is silent and calm, just it has always used to be.From the glass door facing the night landscape of Seoul, everything seems as usual: the skyscrapers stand out against the pitch black night sky with their glinting neon lights, the cars and buses crowd the streets, like an extremely orderly swarm of bees channeling itself in the arteries of the city, poisoning it with the mediocrity and the misery of their very existence.Everything seems the same as usual.Except it is not.-Seonghwa's hands are cold and sweaty against the grip of the gun and, once again, he finds himself cursing his human fallacy.Nothing can go wrong.Nothing must go wrong.His heart hammers against his ribcage as he looks at Mingi and Jongho, strutting at the back of the two guards with extreme confidence, head held up high, as they rightfully should, and firing their guns at the exact same moment.Not a moment of hesitation.Not a false step.Not a flinch.
Relationships: Choi San/Kim Geonhak | Leedo, Jeong Yunho/Lee Keonhee, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa, Kim Dongju/Choi Jongho, Kim Hongjoong/Song Mingi, Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong, Lee Seoho/Jung Wooyoung
Series: Blood Moon Saga [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672837
Comments: 30
Kudos: 48





	1. A Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone.  
> After a long time, I felt the need to come back to the gang alternative universe, where all of my activity as a writer begun.  
> This first chapter is actually just a small teaser to check your response in order to understand how to handle the whole thing, before posting the *actual* first chapter.  
> Please let me know with a comment or kudos if it is of your taste!
> 
> Sending lots of love to all of you and hoping to see you soon with the first, actual chapter!!!

# The Fiery Ones - οι θυμοειδές

## A Teaser

### Prompt:

This work will feature two rival gangs, The Six Moons and The Black Rose, confronting themselves after half a decade of bad blood for the supremacy over Seoul.  
Gang leader Seonghwa, with his circumscribed but trusted armed wing, namely Mingi, Jongho and Yunho, after keeping his head underwater for way too long, is back and thirsty for blood, and the first gang he has in his sight is Youngjo's Six Moons. He's ready to do all what he must to take over, but first he needs to grant himself the trust and obedience of a small but fundamental group: Hongjoong and his informers, the prostitues working for him in his brothel, who have access to a lot of information thanks to their privileged position as lovers of two of the Six Moons' elements.  
But things are never as easy as they seem, even more so since his most trusted element, Mingi, is everything but glad to confront his past, old time lover, Hongjoong.

* * *

The living room of the penthouse is silent and calm, just it has always used to be.

From the glass door facing the night landscape of Seoul, everything seems as usual: the skyscrapers stand out against the pitch black night sky with their glinting neon lights, the cars and buses crowd the streets, like an extremely orderly swarm of bees channeling itself in the arteries of the city, poisoning it with the mediocrity and the misery of their very existence.

Everything seems the same as usual.

Except it is not.

Except, even if no one of those little, insignificant, ever disgusting, irrelevant individuals suspects anything, that night something as big as a hurricane is about to strike Seoul, and no one of them is going to be able to do anything about it.

The lean, tall figure of the man, standing tall in front of the glass door, slowly turns around to join the other three men sitting on the leather corner sofa, stopping right in front of them, a glass of red wine twirling in his hand. 

He takes a sip.

“Car?” 

“Ready whenever you’re ready.” A tall, blonde haired man answers.

“Clearly not, since you’re sitting in my living room, Yunho.” He retaliates, with a hint of sass in his voice and a raised eyebrow.

He sighs and stands up in a bolt.

“I’ll get it. Be down in 5 minutes.”

While Yunho leaves the room, his deep, black eyes jump from the red haired man to the brown haired one, attentively staring back at him.

“Any perplexities?” he asks.

“No.” The red haired one answers right away in his deep, masculine voice.

“Good. You two come with me. Jongho, you’ll watch our back from outside the warehouse. Mingi, you come with me. Make sure your guns are loaded, the both of you. We want to come back with a bang and we need to make sure we leave a blood trail at our back long enough to get everyone’s attention.”

He finishes his wine in a single sip, cleaning the red stained lips with the back of his hand.

“Whatever you want, Seonghwa.” Jongho says, getting up from the sofa, followed by Mingi right away.

“Let’s go. Yunho hates to be left waiting for us.” Mingi adds, opening up the door to let Jongho and Seonghwa walk out before him.

“He’ll need to learn. I have been waiting for this night for five years.” Seonghwa retaliates, as he enters the code to the electronic door lock.

* * *

“Youngjo, I need you to calm the fuck down! -Screams to the phone of his office the handsome man, annoyingly fidgeting with the hem of his red, see-through, pearl encrusted robe, as he moves his perfectly shaved, sleek legs from the armrests of his velvet armchair to properly sit down- Youngjo, for the sake of God, do you even hear what you’re saying? Are you on crack? There’s just no way the Black Rose can be back…”

Hongjoong isn’t even capable to finish his sentence, though, because from the glass of his door, all of a sudden, he sees the one that looks incredibly like a ghost, dressed to the nines and pointing a gun at him.

“Youngjo… Listen to me, stay calm. I have business to attend to now. I’ll get back to you in, let’s say, ten minutes. Yes. Yes, I’ll let you know if I hear something.”

Hongjoong hangs up as fast as he can and slowly gets up from his armchair, showing his empty hands to the man waiting for him behind the door, as he walks up to open it up for him with his jaw dropped.

“Long time no see, Hongjoong… I’ve missed you, doll.” Says Mingi, calmly strutting in and laying down on the fancy, brocade lined chaise longue. “Sadly, the same cannot be said about you, am I right?”

Hongjoong doesn’t dare answering. He tries to back off from him, but he stumbles into the desk at his back and tightens his grasp around its chiselled edge with his trembling hands. 

“What the…” He mutters under his breath.

“How are the twisted sisters? What were their names? Oh, now I remember! San, Yeosang and Wooyoung. Yes, it’s them. I have it on good authority that they still work here. But where did my manners go? I forgot that I need to compliment you: you really have made a beautiful work with the restoration of this place. I remember it like it was yesterday when we actually, let’s say, actively contributed buying this building, and look what a charming brothel you made out of it. The building I, more than the others, paid for you, Hongjoong. With my own fucking money. -Mingi takes a deep breath to send Hongjoong a fiery glare-  _ You owe me _ , Hongjoong. You  _ still _ owe me, and your debt has been significantly increasing, if we add treason to robbery and fraud.”

Mingi stands up to walk up to Hongjoong, slow as a snake, with the eye of a prowler contemplating with eagerness his next prey. Hongjoong feels his legs failing him, as he can’t seem to be able to move from his position, still standing against the desk, petrified and trembling, when Mingi grabs his gun and brushes its cold muzzle against the bare skin of Hongjoong’s chest peeking from the wide cleavage of his robe.

“You owe me, Hongjoong. And now it’s time for retribution. You really thought that we would have let it slip? You thought we would have forgotten?”

Mingi looks at his old time lover with a gaze loaded with both anger and pain.

“Think again. Seonghwa is back. Let it be known, especially by your... _ current owner _ .” He says, with a disgusted tone that makes Hongjoong squint, terrified.

He should have known better. 

Except he did not.


	2. Blossoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing can go wrong.
> 
> Nothing must go wrong.
> 
> His heart hammers against his ribcage as he looks at the both of them, strutting at the back of the two guards with extreme confidence, head held up high, as they rightfully should, and firing their guns at the exact same moment. 
> 
> Not a moment of hesitation. 
> 
> Not a false step.
> 
> Not a flinch.
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> “You owe me, Hongjoong. And now it’s time for retribution. You really thought that we would have let it slip? You thought we would have forgotten?”
> 
> Mingi looks at his old time lover with a gaze loaded with both anger and pain.
> 
> “Think again. Seonghwa is back. Let it be known, especially by your...current owner.” He says, with a disgusted tone that makes Hongjoong squint, terrified.
> 
> He should have known better. 
> 
> Except he did not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves!  
> I have finally finished the first chapter of this AU... It took me an ungodly amount of time, I know, but I hope it is going to be worth the wait!  
> Here are a few of the protagonists... I hope you will be fond of all of them just as much as I happen to be and that, with time, you will be able to get a better grasp of the events that have led to this point.  
> As always, you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/persefoneregina); if you'd like to follow me and be updated on my future works and projects!  
> Please let me know in the comments what you think and spare some kudos, since that's what keeps an author alive.
> 
> Have a pleasant read and, as always, lots of love!

# 1\. Blossoming

#    
  


The living room of the penthouse is silent and calm, just as it always used to be.

From the glass door facing the night landscape of Seoul, everything seems as usual: the skyscrapers stand out against the pitch black night sky with their glinting neon lights, the cars and buses crowd the streets, like an extremely orderly swarm of bees channeling itself in the arteries of the city, poisoning it with the mediocrity and the misery of their very existence.

Everything seems the same as usual.

 _Except it is not_.

Except, even if no one of those little, insignificant, ever disgusting, irrelevant individuals suspects anything, that night something as big as a hurricane is about to strike Seoul, and no one of them is going to be able to do anything about it.

The lean, tall figure of the man, standing tall in front of the glass door, slowly turns around to join the other three men sitting on the leather corner sofa, stopping right in front of them, a glass of red wine twirling in his hand. 

He takes a sip.

“Car?” 

“Ready whenever you’re ready.” A tall, blonde haired man answers.

“Clearly not, since you’re sitting in my living room, Yunho.” He retaliates, with a hint of sass in his voice and a raised eyebrow.

He sighs and stands up in a bolt.

“I’ll get it. Be down in 5 minutes.”

While Yunho leaves the room, his deep, black eyes jump from the red haired man to the brown haired one, attentively staring back at him.

“Any perplexities?” he asks.

“No.” The red haired one answers right away in his deep, masculine voice.

“Good. You two come with me. Jongho, you’ll watch our back from outside the warehouse. Mingi, you come with me. Make sure your guns are loaded, the both of you. We want to come back with a bang and we need to make sure we leave a blood trail at our back long enough to get everyone’s attention.”

He finishes his wine in a single sip, cleaning the red stained lips with the back of his hand.

“Whatever you want, Seonghwa.” Jongho says, getting up from the sofa, followed by Mingi right away.

“Let’s go. Yunho hates to be left waiting for us.” Mingi adds, opening up the door to let Jongho and Seonghwa walk out before him.

“He’ll need to learn. I have been waiting for this night for five years.” Seonghwa retaliates, as he enters the code to the electronic door lock.

The building is perfectly silent, except from the sounds coming from the elevator coming up to his landing. Jongho and Mingi stand in front of him as they wait, just to be extra safe in case there could be any unexpected surprises. The doors open with a short acoustic signal and the three men quietly walk inside, accompanied by the sound of their heels only.

It’s not like there is much to say, anyway: Seonghwa has been waiting for this moment, planning in the slightest detail every single element possible, waiting patiently and with extreme cold blood for the right moment to come to strike harder and deadlier than ever. He has always been like this, for as far as he can remember.

Careful.

Patient.

Analytic.

A natural born tactician, as some would have called him, with a mind with the same characteristics of a diamond: clear, bright, sharp, cold and hard. 

Unbreakable.

Ever after his gang had been wiped out, Seonghwa has been restlessly focused on one thing: revenge. There has not been a moment of peace, for him, through the painful nightmares haunting his sleepless nights and the constant anger and bitterness poisoning his anguished days. 

He wasn’t allowed to mourn his loss. 

He wasn’t allowed to say farewell. 

He had to abandon everything to save his life by secluding himself in a flat that felt like an aquarium, where he was forced to stare as all he had was being ruthlessly destroyed and the bodies of his loved ones were burnt to ashes. 

And now that the moment to exact his revenge is finally approaching, he isn’t going to have mercy of anyone involved. He swallows the knot in his throat, squinting his eyes at the sudden feeling of his tie strangling him and of his pulse thumping in the depth of his ears.

Seonghwa is a natural born tactician.

Of course he has considered, in his endless calculations, that he would have been nervous: he is a human himself, in the end, and stupidly humans are biologically programmed to be afraid of things, even when they know there’s nothing to fear, let alone when there is a lot to.

He rolls his neck and adjusts his tie, with a fluid movement of his hand, before getting out of the elevator’s sliding door, following Mingi’s and Jongho’s steps clacking on the concrete floor of the garage.

Just as soon as they turn a corner, they are struck by the brightness of the black car’s headlights flashing in their eyes.

Seonghwa brings a hand to his eyes, clearly annoyed, and walks towards the trunk as swiftly as he can: there’s not a second to lose and he needs to check that everything is ready and set. When he opens up the trunk, his eyes light up with a bolt of a long forgotten excitement.

Seonghwa feels the thrill of the hunt rushing through his body, like a shot of adrenaline, as his fingertips meet with the cold, smooth, metallic surface of the brand new weapons, peacefully laying in the big leather bag, like a nest of snakes, only waiting to be awakened to land their deadly bites at once. Even the mere touch is enough, for him, to hear the echo of the shooting sounds thunder in his ears and for his nostrils to be filled with the smell of blood, engine oil and burning flesh. 

He closes his eyes for a second.

All he sees is darkness.

Then, out of nowhere, he sees fire. 

Fire everywhere, flaring up from the wet asphalt to the sky, swallowing everything into its ruthless jaws and leaving nothing but ashes.

Ashes and dust, swept away by the dawn’s breeze, as if nothing were.

 _As if no one were_.

He gets in the car with loud sigh and realises that this is it: this is the night. This is his time. 

The moment he has been waiting for years to arrive is finally there, standing in front of him and waiting to be grasped.

Seonghwa almost gets dizzy: for a second, he feels a pit in his stomach, an untamable vertigo almost dragging him down in a spiral of panic, but it doesn’t last more than that one, single second. It’s enough for Seonghwa to take a deep breath to get back in track. He pats his sweaty hands on his trousers, then looks at Mingi, sitting next to him, perfectly unabashed, and the sight of his proud profile and of his determined expression is enough to calm him down and bring him back to his task: if Mingi, who, in a way, ended up being the most affected one of them from the events of their common past, was capable to hold his head up and be perfectly collected, then so could he.

Yunho drives without making a word, making sure they meddle in the traffic and that they stay within safety limits: they don’t want to trigger the security cameras around Seoul. They want to leave a trace, but it must be one that cannot be followed by the authorities. Seonghwa has no intentions to make it look like anything more or less than an ordinary clash between gangs: when the police and the press are going to arrive to the location of the slaughter, he wants them to pay it no more mind that what they usually do with that sort of things. After all, they have been looking away from the criminal scene for so long that they could never tell the difference between an ordinary settling of scores and a slaughter meant to send a clear message, corrupted and powerless as they have become during the years of the Monster’s domain over Seoul. He knows that those who need to notice, eventually will. And if they won’t, he will make sure to make it clearer.

At a crossroads, Yunho takes a turn and they finally head towards Seoul’s industrial area. He turns off the headlights: from now on, they will have to proceed unseen.

On the front seat, Jongho brings out his phone from his jacket and fidgets with it for a few seconds, with a furrowed expression on his face. He accesses to the code of a security system, going through a series of checkpoints requesting him to insert keywords and pins, before he finally has access to the code of the security system. He dials a sequence of code lines, then stares at the monitor, holding his breath in until he hears the confirmation buzzer.

“Security system hacked. The cameras have been deactivated and I have successfully replaced the real time images with the ones recorded a few nights ago. They won’t know shit about our arrival.” Jongho says, with ill-concealed gloating. 

“Well done, Jongho.” Thanks him Seonghwa, winking at him from the back seat.

For the first time since they have left his penthouse, Seonghwa relaxes himself.

It’s all truly coming to life. His plan, his work, his effort… It’s all about to finally pay off.

The black car confuses itself in the shadows of the unlighted ring road, passing under viaducts and through side streets, until they reach a dark back alley. Beyond the electrified metal fence, an uncountable number of warehouses stretches out as far as eyes can see, faintly illuminated by the cold neon lights of the light poles standing between one building and another.

The four men walk out of the car at once, as soon as Yunho pulls the handbrake and turns off the engine. Seonghwa opens up the trunk and pulls out, from under the leather bag full of weapons, a blueprint of the set of building to rehearse in his mind the route they will have to take once more before getting into action. Meanwhile, squatting down in a corner, Jongho is busy ringing up the muffler on his gun with extreme care. Not so far from him, Yunho fumbles with the inner pocket of his coat, getting out of it a small black box containing a set of screwdrivers and some magnets, which he carefully places around the electronic lock of the fence in order to generate an interference powerful enough to send the lock in haywire for the time he needs to dismantle it, preventing it from sending the alarm to the Six Moons headquarters. As soon as he has finished and the lock clicks open, he turns around with a bright smile and pushes the gate open with a galliant bow.

“Your majesties.” Yunho says, in a whisper that, still, is loud enough for all of them to hear.

“Oh, shut up.” Responds Seonghwa, busy distributing the weapons and the ammos to Jongho and Mingi. 

Then, he walks toward Yunho and hands him an Uzi, which he embraces with wide opened eyes.

“Just in case.” Seonghwa says, a hinted smile stretching his lips.

“Just in case.” Answers Yunho, nodding his head.

“See ya in 30.” Mingi waves at him with his hand, before walking across the gate, followed by Seonghwa, in the middle, and Jongho, closing the line.

Yunho doesn’t say anything. He just looks at them, feeling his heart race in his chest. 

He’s afraid. He is not like Seonghwa. He almost lost his best friend, back in the days, and seeing him putting his life at stake, once more, out of pure loyalty towards Seonghwa, is almost unbearable for him. 

Yunho locks the door and stands against the wall, away from the light of the lamppost, trying his best not to stare at his wristwatch. He can almost feel the tears filling up his eyes at the mere thought of losing Mingi. Mingi is not just any person, to him: he’s his childhood friend, he’s his partner in crime, he’s his… brother. 

When all crumbled, Yunho was the one who took him in his house and mended his wounds until he was able to get back on his feet. He was the one who dried his tears. He was the one who listened to him. He was the one who _knew_.

It’s 23:30 and his wait has begun.

Yunho really wishes they would all be back already.

Cloaked in darkness, almost crawling against the perimeter of the fence, the three men move forward as silent as possible, timing their every move accordingly to the route of the patrol squads surveilling the buildings, in order to arrive to the warehouse marked with the number 190109 completely unseen. As foreseen by Seonghwa, there’s just two men guarding it. Mingi and Jongho give to each other a knowing look and a nod before getting into action. Seonghwa stays put where he is, lurking in the darkness and waiting expectantly for them to do their job as agreed. His hands are cold and sweaty against the grip of the gun and, once again, he finds himself cursing his human fallacy.

Nothing can go wrong.

Nothing must go wrong.

His heart hammers against his ribcage as he looks at the both of them, strutting at the back of the two guards with extreme confidence, head held up high, as they rightfully should, and firing their guns at the exact same moment. 

Not a moment of hesitation. 

Not a false step.

Not a flinch.

The quiet, reassuring, soothing hissing of the muffler reverberates for a second in the night, as both Mingi and Jongho promptly grab the bodies, preventing them from falling to the ground, and swiftly drag them to the back of the building, where Seonghwa is waiting, eyes lost in contemplation of the perfect synchrony with which they both move. After they stack the corpses one onto the other, Jongho turns around towards Seonghwa and signs him to come with a movement of his hand.

The three of them then move as one to the entrance of the warehouse.

Jongho pulls out of his pocket the electromagnetic card he has just taken from the guard’s neck and slides it inside the lock’s fissure. The lights turn green in no time. His hand goes for the handle, ready to storm inside, but Seonghwa wraps his hand around Jongho and stops him, earning himself an interrogative look from both of his partners.

“Remember -Seonghwa whispers- No casualties. We get inside, kill them all, take the load and get the fuck out. It’s as easy as that. Jongho, after we storm in and everyone is dead, you leave immediately and wait for us outside. Not a sound. Not a movement. Not a body, unless that is strictly necessary. Understood?”

Mingi and Jongho nod in response, and only then Seonghwa lets go of his grip and allows Jongho to open up the door with a single, resolved movement.

There’s about twelve men inside, organizing some large cardboard boxes in piles, checking stocktaking lists, murmuring in small groups, frenziedly going from one side of the building to the other. At the bottom of the room, Seonghwa notices a peculiar figure: the man is not dressed in overalls like everyone else, he is wearing a suit. And an expensive one, dare he say. Looks like fucking Armani or something. Sleek cut jacket, neatly creased trousers, glossy blue fabric, a freshly starched white shirt and a silk tie. pinned on his chest with a moon shaped brooch. Looks like someone from the big leagues. 

_Fuck_ , thinks Seonghwa, _this was not supposed to happen_.

For as fast as he tries to think, he has to recognise that this is definitely not the time for that. He knows that having to kill too big of a fish is a huge risk for what he has planned for this night, but then again, in times like that there’s only so much room for reflection. 

They need to strike and they need to do it now, before anyone can even think of calling for help or, God forbid, do anything nasty against them.

Seonghwa knows that the surprise element is the key to their success: therefore, they can’t afford to give up on their biggest advantage just because they have been surprised in return. After all, for as far as they know, that man could be a mere delegate for someone else.

Nonetheless, Seonghwa makes for himself the mental note to not aim for any of his vital points, just in case he might turn out to be handy.

As expected, Mingi is the one who fires first: he’s always been of very few words and even fewer patience, a trait that Seonghwa would generally despise and refrain, but that in this very situation turns out to be extremely fruitful. In fact, while he is still caught up in his considerations, Mingi has already taken out of the way six of the workers and is currently reloading his gun, Jongho being just as impressively efficient as him as he backs him up, taking care of a group of three men on the opposite side of the room, without even blinking. 

As for himself, Seonghwa never loses sight of fancy pants, as he inexorably strides, like a harbinger of death, towards him and the two workers he was talking to. 

His steps plunge in the streams of blood coming from the other workers’ bodies, slowly spreading on the linoleum floor like a rising tide, and splash red droplets on his shiny leather shoes and on the hem of his trousers, making an unsettling, anguishing, splashing sound, while in the background he can hear the hushed gurgling and choking noises coming out of the mouths of the dying men and a couple gunshots being fired to finish them off.

Seonghwa keeps on walking.

At this point he’s too high on adrenaline, too aroused, too enticed to stop himself.

As the blood pumps more and more vigorously through his veins, Seonghwa takes out the two workers with a bullet at the center of each forehead, without even putting that much effort into aiming, his deep, intense, fiery gaze fixed on the one man who should never have been there in the first place, according to his calculations. Seonghwa is furious and unstoppable, and the man looks like such an easy prey that his bloodlust almost takes over. There’s a voice in his mind screaming to kill him, but a glimpse of lucidity reminds him that he can’t afford to listen to it. 

He needs to think. 

He needs to know. 

The man looks at him, appalled by terror, petrified against the wall, incapable to take his eyes away from Seonghwa’s, and before he knows it, he finds himself pinned against the wall by the ruthless grip of Seonghwa’s hand firmly looped around his neck. He gasps for air, hopelessly wincing his limbs, like an insect in the clamp of a Venus flytrap, in a miserable attempt to set himself free.

Seonghwa stares at him, both disgusted and entertained, licking his lips with an unsettling smile. He could almost laugh at himself, for being so concerned about that man, for thinking he could have been anything different than a pitiful lackey, for assuming that the Six Moons would have really been stupid enough to send anyone relevant off to that shithole.

That man is nothing but a disgusting coward, disguised in clothes too good for his actual position, probably purposely chosen to trick those rats into thinking he plays a higher role than the one he actually covers for God knows what reason.

Seonghwa needs to find out.

But before that, he turns his face to Jongho and Mingi, at his back.

“Jongho, what did I say? You must go out now. Wait for us outside. We could have a five minutes delay here.” Seonghwa orders, and Jongho obeys with a nod of his head, though reluctantly.

“What do you want to do with this one?” Mingi asks, clearly irritated because of the unforeseen snag, scratching the scar on his face.

“Does it hurt?” Seonghwa questions, in return, toning down his words to a more humane and gentle voice, genuinely worried about him. 

“Nah, just an itch.” Mingi answers, suddenly retracting his hand and putting it in his pocket, the other one still firmly serrated around the grip of his Colt. 

He’s had that goddamn scar for so much time, and yet he still sees him suffer because of it every now and then, not to mention the fact that it has changed Mingi as a person in the most radical way, making him colder, quieter and, sadly enough, lonelier and more sorrowful than ever.

 _That bitch_. 

_But this is not the time to think about him: he will pay, too._

_Everyone will pay for all the lives they’ve stolen._

_Including Mingi’s_.

“Now, I think it’s time for a quick chit chat with this new friend of ours, don’t you agree?” Seonghwa says, speaking to Mingi, who hums in agreement, pointing his gun straight to the man’s temple, while Seonghwa takes his hand away from his neck excruciatingly slowly.

The man’s face is covered in sweat drops, rolling down along his neck and soaking the collar of the shirt, as he trembles like a leaf whirled by the wind and loudly swallows.

“Ah, don’t be nervous, the gun is just as a guarantee.” Seonghwa says, finally speaking to the man, in a teasing tone, while he dries his palm with the white handkerchief taken from his breast-pocket.

“A-as a… What???” The man mutters, pressing his lips together and trying to move closer to Seonghwa, to which Mingi silently answers by working the safety of the gun with a deaf metallic sound.

“See, I am a very reasonable person, but my friend, here, has such a short temper… It would be such a pity if, let’s say, he accidentally happened to have a twitch at his hand and in an absolutely unintentional way pulled the trigger, wouldn’t it?” Seonghwa savours the candid way with which every emotions crossing the man’s mind shows up just as clearly on his face, and decides to play for a little while with him. “We don’t want to harm you or to ruin your beautiful dress, but there is a fair chance that it could happen if you give the wrong answer to the three questions I am going to ask you. Understood? Very well. Let’s start with something easy. Tell me, what is your name, my slippery friend?”

The man looks at Seonghwa like he’s on the verge of bursting into tears, incapable to answer as his lips tremble and he unsuccessfully mutters a short series of muffled syllables.

Seonghwa walks up to him and forcefully grabs his wet, greasy face, softly slapping his cheek. 

“Come on, you can do it. I believe in you.” He hisses through a mischievous smile.

“My… My name… My name is Sin Kyongjin.” The man eventually answers, disgustingly drooling on his lips and chin.

“Very well, Kyongjin-ssi. Now, why were you doing here tonight?” Seonghwa asks, impatient. 

They’ve already lost enough time with that worm and he wants the answers he needs in the shortest amount of time possible.

“Please, I can’t… I can’t tell you this… They’ll kill me if I do…” Kyongjin slowly falls to his knees, sobbing and curling up on himself, making Mingi roll his eyes and check his watch.

“Oh, Kyongjin, but you see, there’s a little issue here. There’s no way you are ever going to make it out alive tonight, so I strongly suggest you to speak up. -Seonghwa speaks, with a voice as smooth as velvet and as poisonous as a snake, squatting down in front of him to look him in the eyes, while the man tries to avoid his heavy gaze and only raises his eyes to give quick looks in the direction of a box in particular, soliciting Seonghwa’s interest, who doesn’t miss to observe these little details and suddenly stands up, taking that involuntary hint.- You know what? I think I’ll figure myself. Let’s see what’s in here…”

Seonghwa slowly reaches for the box and opens up its lids, with extreme care: God knows what he could find inside of it. But, when he’s about to open it up, he feels a sudden noise.

Seonghwa turns around and, in a second, Kyongjin pounces over him and deals him a punch in the face, before Mingi can roll up on him, pushing the man away from Seonghwa and pinning him on the floor with all of his weight.

He only needs a word to do whatever Seonghwa wishes to that dirtbag, but finds himself waiting for an order that doesn’t come just yet.

Seonghwa licks the blood away from his lip, hissing, high on the taste of it, almost as if it had instantly reinvigorated him. 

He stands back up, brushing the dust off of his coat and going back to the mysterious box, while Kyongjin grunts and whines under Mingi’s knee forcefully crushing his rib cage against the pavement, dirty with blood and dirt.

“As I was saying before we got interrupted, let’s see what we have here.” Seonghwa says in a vicious tone, pulling out of the box one of the many velvet pouches sitting inside of it and unfolding its hem. When he digs his hand to feel its content, Seonghwa is shocked and excited: that is way more than he expected, and all of a sudden the one that felt like a nuisance turns into the biggest stroke of luck he could have ever hoped for.

Diamonds.

A countless amount of diamonds, all finely cut and of exquisite quality.

So that’s what Kyongjin was there for… He was delivering a tremendous amount of diamonds to the Six Moons.

Seonghwa would have a ton of questions more about those diamonds, but he is fairly sure he can find out about them by himself. That man is of no use whatsoever. 

Seonghwa lowers his gaze to meet Mingi’s eyes and serenely smiles, too excited about his discovery to even give a fuck anymore about that scum.

“Dispose of him.” He orders, as calm as ice, completely impassible, while Mingi, who is still pushing the man down to the ground with all of his body weight, hand forcefully grabbing around his wrists at his back, fetches his trusted Colt M1911 and, lighting fast, takes off the safety to press the gun against the man’s nape.

“You sure?” Mingi asks, looking straight into Seonghwa’s wide opened eyes, irises trembling and eager to see his orders being executed.

“Did I stutter?” He asks, annoyed.

“No, no, you didn’t. I just can’t see why you can’t do it yourself. It’s uncomfy like this, I might shake and the whole could not turn out to be as clean as the other ones.” Mutters Mingi, placing his finger on the ice cold trigger.

“Do you wanna be the next to go?” Seonghwa sighs, irritated by the unnecessary delay caused by Mingi’s stupid questions.

Note to self: give a lesson to the big baby as soon as they’re out of there.

“Nah, ‘m not really feeling this whole dead vibe. You can’t clap cheeks in a coffin. -Mingi says, before turning around to stare with a deadly glare at his victim, trembling as a leaf under the petrifying weight of the Colt- Nothing personal.”

He doesn’t even flinch as he pulls the trigger, almost bored and completely desensitized by his action, only slightly annoyed by the noise of the shoot and extremely careful not have his precious black vicuna coat stained by the blood of that idiot, currently ebbing out from the exit hole on his forehead, in a dark puddle.

Mingi stands up and reaches Seonghwa, storing away his gun in the leather sheath hanging around his belt.

“Why the fuck must you always have an opinion?” Seonghwa asks in a scolding tone, giving a severe look at his partner, while patting away the blood from his broken lip with a linen handkerchief.

“Why the fuck must you always have at least one theatrical murder?” Mingi retaliates, with a sly smile on his face, before wrapping one arm around Seonghwa’s shoulders to goofily pull him closer. “C’mon, I’m hungry. Let’s order something when we get to your place, shall we?”

“Can’t see why not. Now, let’s pick up all the diamonds, the cocaine and the weapons. Leave the other drugs as a tip for those Six Moons beggars. Tell Yunho to get the car ready. I don’t wanna be seen around this shithole a minute longer than the essential. Oh, and do me a favour, call a florist. We need to send a little something to the Six Moons’ leader. Ask for it to be delivered at the address I’m going to give you at 4:03 a.m. on the dot. Not a minute earlier or later. This is of the essence. _Now, Mingi_. I want this call to be done now.” Seonghwa orders.

“Mh-hm. What do you want to be sent?” Mingi asks, attentive as ever, with a raised eyebrow, awaiting for directions with his phone in his hand.

“A black rose.”

“A black rose.”

* * *

  
  
  


The buzzing sound of the interphone breaks the perfect silence of the villa, enveloped by the gentle mantle of the night. In the safety of a large bedroom rests a couple of young men, the smaller one, with a disheveled mane of soft, blonde hair, and dressed in black lace lingerie, is curled up on his side, and a broader one, with locks of sweaty black hair resting on his forehead, in an essential pair of boxers, is spooning him, arms tightly wrapped around him.

It’s been ages from the last time that someone came ringing to his place at that ungodly hour. 

The broad man jumps up from the bed, alarmed, with no hesitation, a sinister feeling creeping onto him as he makes way to the main hall with long and quick struts. The coldness of marble floor freezes his feet and an ominous shiver runs along his spine in the very moment he picks up the receiver.

“What is it?” The man asks, his voice still muddy. 

“A special delivery, sir.” It’s the voice of one of his most trusted men, his youngest one: Dongju. “They say the sender asked for it to be delivered at this exact time and to you personally. We checked with the metal detector and under the X-Rays. It looks like a flower or something. Maybe a present from Hwanwoong hyung? Is it your anniversary?”

“No, it’s not. -There’s a moment of hesitation in his voice, as he gives a quick, anxious look towards the bedroom, where his husband, Hwanwoong, is soundly sleeping- I’ll send Seoho to pick it up.”

He hangs up the receiver and turns towards the kitchen, where he pulls out a large drinking glass and pours himself a scotch on the rocks.

“Is anything the matter, Youngjo?” Asks one of the two men guarding the bedroom, peeking from the door’s frame, in his melodious voice, as he walks inside, closely followed by the other, bigger man.

“I don’t know yet, Seoho, but this definitely doesn’t feel right. Dongju says that he has just been delivered a box. I want you to pick it up and bring it here now.” Youngjo takes a sip and rolls the liquor in his mouth, savouring its scent and letting its perfume fill up his nostrils.

“Sure, I’ll be right back.” Seoho answers, swiftly making his way to the door.

“Geonhak. -Youngjo calls the other man by his name, earning himself an intense glare as an answer- Go back to your spot and watch over Hwanwoong. Do not, by any, and I mean any, reason, leave his side. I have a bad feeling about this.”

Geonhak nods, but hesitates to leave, his eyes still lingering on Youngjo’s slightly trembling frame.

“Want me to fetch you some clothes?” He asks, in his deep, raspy voice.

“Yes please. My dressing gown should be in the bedroom.” Youngjo takes another long sip, but this time he swallows it at once.

“I’ll be here in a second.” Geonhak answers, heading to the bedroom. 

He comes back in no time and hands him the black silk night robe, embroidered with blue herons on the back and hemmed with a thin, silver trimming. Youngjo wraps himself up in it, finding comfort in the smooth sensation of silk gliding against his body and shrinking himself under its warm embrace.

“Thank you, Geonhak.” He mutters, as he hears the metallic sound of the front door opening.

Geonhak leaves, going back to watch over Hwanwoong, while Seoho reaches for the kitchen and delicately lays the box he’s carrying on top of the crystal table.

Youngjo takes slow steps until he’s close enough to it and brushes its lid with his fingertips. It’s a long, thin, cardboard box, lined in black velvet. He gently holds it with both of his hands, exchanging a quick but eloquent look with Seoho, before opening it up to finally discover the nature of the content of that unexpected delivery.

But, as soon as Youngjo sees it, he instantly drops it on the floor, shook, gasping for air.

A black rose rolls out of it to lay on the white marble of the kitchen’s floor, losing a couple petals in the impact, and a finely printed card, with a golden skull on its black back, floats nearby it. Youngjo hesitantly picks it up, while Seoho stares at it, gritting his teeth.

“What is that? Does it say anything?” He asks, impatiently, wrapping his arm around his leader’s waist to take a look at it for himself.

Youngjo doesn’t dare to answer him. He just turns it around, for him to see: on the black background, there are four white hands, one for each corner, outstretched towards the center and surrounded by white flowers. In the middle, a golden, old fashioned spinning wheel. Seoho doesn’t understand. There is an inscription on the bottom, reciting, in golden lettering “ _the wheel of fortune_ ”.

“What does this mean?” He asks, puzzled, trying to understand the enigmatic look in Youngjo’s deep, dark eyes, that are visibly flaring up with a raw anger Seoho hadn’t seen in the longest time. “Youngjo, what does that mean?” He insists.

“It means we’re at war.” 

Before he has the time to ask why or what happened, Seoho is left alone in the room, while Youngjo storms across the house, fetching for his laptop and his smartphone and locking himself in his studio.

In the meantime, he hears a fuzz coming from the bedroom.

Hwanwoong must have woken up.

“Where is he?” He asks to Geonhak, standing with his back pinned against the door. “Why is he awake? What happened? Geonhak, you better speak before I-”

“He’s just gone into his studio. He got a delivery.” Seoho interrupts him, patting Geonhak’s back.

“What delivery? Who sent that?” Hwanwoong questions, eyes fixed on Seoho’s face as he picks up his see-through night robe, hemmed with a soft boa of feathers, of very little use to cover him up and leaving nothing to imagination, even more so considering the revealing lingerie he’s wearing underneath, a most generously definable frame for his naked, soft bubble butt and a gracious lining for his beautifully harmonious thighs.

“Fuck if I know. He saw that and locked himself up. Not a word.” Seoho tries to be as calm as he can and to hide the truth from him. 

He doesn’t want Hwanwoong to get nervous, or worse, angry.

He’s definitely on the smaller side, and people would think of him as the most unthreatening individual ever, but the rest of them knows how Hwanwoong could make a veteran from the Cold War piss his pants with his, just as similarly small and deadly, Smith and Wesson .358 Magnum.

“Out of the way! I want to see my husband. I want to see him _now_.” Hwanwoong screams to Geonhak’s face.

“Listen, he’ll be back here in no time.Just wait. He’s probably checking a few things before getting back to bed with you.” Geonhak tries to calm him down, but it’s of no use: Hwanwoong is already losing his temper, standing in front of him, just a few inches away from his chest.

“I said out of the way.” Hwanwoong hisses, grinding his teeth.

“C’mon Geonhak, let him go. -Seoho intervenes, earning himself a puzzled look from his colleague, who doesn’t really feel like deserting Youngjo’s orders- Let him go.” Seoho insists, enunciating slowly and giving his partner a wink, hoping he’ll listen to him.

As for himself, after a loud sigh, Geonhak moves away and, at long last, Hwanwoong is set free. He frenziedly rushes towards the studio, without even putting any care in how forcefully he pushes the door’s handle with all the strength in his body and storming inside, almost tripping on his feet, in front of a perplexed Youngjo who is caught in the middle of a phone call.

Youngjo stares at a panting Hwanwoong, still holding onto the doorknob, for a second, then hints a tired smile and pats on his thigh, inviting him to join him. Hwanwoong takes a step closer, trying to not disturb him more than he already has, and slowly sits onto his husband’s lap, curling up against his strong torso, like a kitten, and resting his head upon his chest. He closes his eyes, cradled by his husband’s heartbeat, while Youngjo wraps one arm around him and mindlessly rubs his chin against his soft mane, planting a kiss on his forehead every now and then as he waits for the person on the other end to pick up the phone.

“Hongjoong, at long fucking last, uh?” Youngjo roars, as he hugs Hwanwoong closer to his body and slides to nestle his face in the slope of his neck, digging deep in the veiled flesh of his hips with his fingers and inhaling his perfume. He smells of amber and iris. While Youngjo listens to Hongjoong speak, at the other edge of the line, he can’t help but think about how much Hwanwoong’s perfume soothes him. About how Hwanwoong himself soothes him and heals his soul, reminding him with his mere presence that there’s still beauty in the world. He feels his husband running his fingertips along his jaw and on his scalp, making him shiver with desire. He wishes he could just hang up that phone call, but unfortunately in that moment he can’t afford to be distracted and to go back to what he would like to do.

Duty and pleasure are two very different things, that is a thing he had to learn very early in life. He was only 22 when Solar left all of the empire she had built with the Monster, that’s how Namjoon was called back in the days when he ruled that town together with her. When they decided, in mutual agreement, that he was ready, they put it all in his hands and left for good, and he was left in Seoul, all on his own. Yes, of course, he had his men, but deep down he knew that the burden was his, and his only, to bear. He sometimes thinks with pity at the person he was back then: afraid, insecure, closed-off, obsessed with unspeakable fears. Then, Hwanwoong arrived, and it felt like the sun had risen on his existence, enveloping him with his bright light. He wishes, every now and then, to able to do what Solar did with Moonbyul: drop everything and run away, get a new life, start over again somewhere new, somewhere far enough for no one to know his face or his name, living off of Hwanwoong’s love and that alone. But the truth is, no one can do what he does the way he does it. Though many would like to, no one can replace him yet, and he promised Solar to maintain order and make her empire flourish: he cannot let her down. He cannot disappoint the only one person that, for the first time in his life, felt like family. So he clenches his jaw and he takes a deep breath, while hiding from the world in the welcoming warmth of Hwanwoong’s arms, collecting all the strength he needs to withstand that conversation.

“Hongjoong, it was him. I am sure it was him. The delivery receipt says that the package was left here at 4:03 a.m. on explicit request of the sender. There was a black rose in it, Hongjoong, there was a fucking black rose! You know what this means just as much as I do, so I am asking you this, and mind you I will only ask once, do you know anything about the Black Rose being back in business?”

Youngjo listens for a few seconds more to what Hongjoong, one of his business partners, has to say, rolling his eyes and annoyedly puffing. Then, he hangs up and turns to Hwanwoong. He looks at him and smiles, before leaning in for a soft kiss.

“Is anything the matter, love?” Hwanwoong asks in his velvety voice.

“Way too many, if I have to be honest. But you know what? Nothing we can’t talk about in the morning, kitten.” Youngjo whispers, through the kisses and their noses softly nuzzling.

“I’m not a kitten, I’m a _tiger_!” He retorts, mimicking a tiger’s clawing paw with his small hand and letting out a tiny roar.

“Oh, are you? Then show me what you got, baby!” Youngjo laughs, endeared, then he stands up, holding Hwanwoong safe into his arms, and brings him back to their bedroom to playfully throw him on the unmade bed.

Geonhak looks at Seoho with both of his eyebrows raised, mouth pressed in a fissure as he tries to hold in his laughter, and ever so quietly shuts the door closed to give them some privacy.

From the inside, the sounds of their giggles and their kisses raise, to the point that Seoho and Geonhak can’t hold it anymore and burst out in a choked laugh.

Even if only for that night, they can pretend as if nothing has happened yet.

Only for that night, the world can wait.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Youngjo, I need you to calm the fuck down! -Screams to the phone of his office the handsome man, snarkily fidgeting with the hem of his red, see-through, pearl encrusted robe, as he moves his perfectly shaved, sleek legs away from the armrests of his velvet armchair, to properly sit down- Youngjo, for the sake of God, do you even hear what you’re saying? Are you on crack? There’s just no way the Black Rose can be back…”

Hongjoong isn’t even capable to finish his sentence, though, because from the glass of his door, all of a sudden, he sees the one that looks incredibly like a ghost, dressed to the nines and pointing a gun at him.

“Youngjo… Listen to me, stay calm. I have business to attend to now. I’ll get back to you in, let’s say, ten minutes. Yes. Yes, I’ll let you know if I hear something.”

Hongjoong hangs up as fast as he can and slowly gets up from his armchair, showing his empty hands to the man waiting for him behind the door, as he walks up to open it up for him with his jaw dropped.

“Long time no see, Hongjoong… I’ve missed you, doll.” Says Mingi, calmly strutting in and laying down on the fancy, brocade lined chaise longue. “Sadly, the same cannot be said about you, am I right?”

Hongjoong doesn’t dare answering. He tries to back off from him, but he stumbles into the desk at his back and tightens his grasp around its chiselled edge with his trembling hands. 

“What the…” He mutters under his breath.

“How are the twisted sisters? What were their names? Oh, now I remember! San, Yeosang and Wooyoung. Yes, it’s them. I have it on good authority that they still work here. But where did my manners go? I forgot that I need to compliment you: you really have made a beautiful work with the restoration of this place. I remember it like it was yesterday when we actually, let’s say, actively contributed buying this building, and look what a charming brothel you made out of it. The building I, more than the others, paid for you, Hongjoong. With my own fucking money. -Mingi takes a deep breath to send Hongjoong a fiery glare- _You owe me_ , Hongjoong. You _still_ owe me, and your debt has been significantly increasing, if we add treason to robbery and fraud.”

Mingi stands up to walk up to Hongjoong, slow as a snake, with the eye of a prowler contemplating with eagerness his next prey. Hongjoong feels his legs failing him, as he can’t seem to be able to move from his position, still standing against the desk, petrified and trembling, when Mingi grabs his gun and brushes its cold muzzle against the bare skin of Hongjoong’s chest peeking from the wide cleavage of his robe.

“You owe me, Hongjoong. And now it’s time for retribution. You really thought that we would have let it slip? You thought we would have forgotten?”

Mingi looks at his old time lover with a gaze loaded with both anger and pain.

“Think again. Seonghwa is back. Let it be known, especially by your... _current owner_.” He says, with a disgusted tone that makes Hongjoong squint, terrified.

He should have known better. 

Except he did not.

“...Oh, and he’s here, in case you wanna say hi, but I suggest you don’t show up since he’d rather see you in a coffin. And we both know you’re gonna be a coward even on confronting him… After all, that’s what you are: a filthy coward, a schemer and a traitor.” Mingi presses him, in a tone that is both relentless and mocking to the verge of humiliation.

Hongjoong feels his heart sink in his chest and his limbs suddenly become as cold as ice. He can’t meet Seonghwa. He just _can’t_. But then again, he didn’t think he was going to meet Mingi either, and look at him now, facing his biggest fear: confronting the feelings and the anger of the one that he always thought of as the love of his life.

“What does he want?” Hongjoong tries to say, holding his voice as still as he humanly can, trying not to choke on his own words, but still incapable to look at Mingi’s face.

“The same as what everyone else who comes in here wants: a warm mouth and a wet hole, but make it luxury edition. And fast. He’s waiting in the hall.”

Hongjoong tries to slip away from the grasp of Mingi’s body, cornering him and leaving him no possible escape. 

“I wouldn’t go in person, if I were you.” Mingi adds, leaning down to whisper in his ear with his low voice.

“Then let me at least make a call to send someone downstairs.” Hongjoong growls, wiggling and stretching his arm, incapable to reach for the old fashioned telephone, lacquered in black enamel and with fine brass details, sitting on the opposite corner of the wide desk.

But Mingi clearly doesn’t mean to move away from where he’s standing, towering against him and probably gloating at his panicked reaction. He would have never thought he’d have ever seen him again, or at least not in those circumstances. Hongjoong knows he’s at fault. He’s fully aware of what he has done, but back then he felt like he didn’t have a choice, and moreover Mingi’s stubbornness would have never allowed him to understand. Mingi would have found a thousand and one objections to his thousand reasons, he would have never given up on the idea of being with him, not even for his own safety, not even under those circumstances, therefore, for as much as Hongjoong loved him, and probably right because of that, he did the only thing he knew would have made him leave. If Hongjoong couldn’t have loved him, at least he could have kept him alive, and that has been his only comfort during all those lonely, painful days. He knows that Mingi has every single right to be furious at him, and yet he knows that, if he had been ill-intentioned, they wouldn’t have been talking at that point: he’s a sniper, and in incredibly talented one. If Mingi had wanted him dead, he would have done it sooner and in the cleanest way possible. The reason of his presence there is still unfathomable to him. 

“Come on, make this phone call. -Mingi orders, taking the phone from its spot effortlessly and holding it for him- Hands where I can see them, pretty.”

Hongjoong bites his lip and picks up the receiver, dialing a number.

After a few seconds, a voice answers on the other hand.

“Hey, Yeosang. You busy? No, listen… Yes, I know it’s your free night, but… Yeosang, will you listen to me for a second? There’s a special guest downstairs. An important one… Yeah, that’s why I thought of you. Do you think you can do this for me? ...Well, of course you will get overtime pay for this! Ok, ok, get dolled up and hurry up, I don’t want to keep him waiting. Yeah, I’ll drop by later.” Hongjoong hangs up the phone with an exhausted sigh and Mingi puts it back where it was in no time.

“Problems handling things? Well, well, some things never change, uh?” He says, with a bitter smirk.

“None of your fucking business, I believe.” Hongjoong retorts, at long last bringing himself to look at his face and meeting his eyes.

Mingi is still as handsome and charming as ever. There’s a few fine lines at the center of his forehead, though, that weren’t there before, and a terrible, thick scar on the right side of his face, from the top of his eyebrow all down to the corner of his lips. A scar he’s very sadly familiar with, since he’s its author. Hongjoong needs to push back the tears when he thinks of that night, the last one they spent together, of that ruthless fight they had, of all the heartache that came afterwards, of how he hasn’t been able to even get close to touching anyone else ever since then without feeling nauseous about the simple thought of having anyone but Mingi even breathing next to him. From Mingi’s perspective, of course, he is the bad guy of the whole narrative, but Hongjoong only knows to what cost it came and how desperate things were getting at the time of the events regarding their breakup.

“You’re right. None of my business.” Mingi mutters and, for the first time, he’s the one to feel the urge to take away his gaze from him, eyes blurry with tears gripping onto his lashes, one flutter from falling down his face.

Instinctively, under the effect of God knows what strange sort of muscular memory, Hongjoong’s hands run faster than his brain to cup Mingi’s face and pulling it towards his own, their foreheads and nose tips touching, none of them daring to look at the other, while he brushes away the tears from his cheeks with his thumbs. It’s the first time he touches his scar. The texture of the scar tissue is very different from the one of Mingi’s soft, warm, peachy skin. Its raised surface feels cold, thick and disturbingly smooth. Hongjoong runs his thumb along its sharp edges with gentle caresses that feel like sorrow and remorse, while his heart melts down in a puddle of mixed emotions and his stomach clenches under the bite of the longing and melancholy which have consumed him every minute of every day of the last years. 

“I’m sorry, Mingi. I didn’t mean to be bitter. I have no right to…” Hongjoong whispers in a choked voice.

“No, you have no rights, but it’s true. You’re none of my business anymore. You haven’t been for a while now.” Mingi whispers, but this time his tone is not threatening. It’s hurt. It’s excruciating. It’s broken.

“Mingi, please… Don’t… You don’t understand… I had no choice… -Hongjoong tries to speak, but his voice is feeble and it keeps breaking as burning tears stroll down his face, but maybe he has kept his secret for too long, and maybe, _just maybe_ , his heart can’t hold the pain anymore. Even if he knows that Mingi is going to despise him even more after knowing the truth, the least he can do is to try to give him a fair closure- When _he_ came to me, he… He threatened me. Said I would’ve been able to… To stay… If I sold the place to him. He would’ve been just the nominal owner and I could’ve kept the brothel open. He’d have kept me and the boys safe… If I… If I would have given him information. Any kind of information. Or else, he would’ve burnt the place down and killed us all. Every single one of us. Stupidly enough, and scared as I was to lose everything, I said yes. T-Thought I could’ve handled it. Thought it… it would have been no biggie… After all, the place had just opened, and there wasn’t much I could’ve offered to him. The clients were few, and of course irrelevant… But I had never been so wrong. H-He didn’t want to know about my clients... He wanted to have stuff about you and the Black Rose… And his way to have information is not asking questions. He doesn’t ask, Mingi… He... He blackmails. He extorts. He... t-tortures… I lost it when he nearly… Oh God, I can’t… He… He nearly killed San in front of my two eyes. I knew I couldn’t have kept lying to him, I knew just as well that you wouldn’t have listened to reason, and I… I couldn’t have done anything to keep him away from you... I knew you’d have said you could have protected me or, even worse, you would have done something reckless, and if… If there’s one thought I still can’t bear, even after all this time, is that to lose you. I only… I only tried to protect you. I was desperate. I was desperate because I knew I couldn’t have kept the information I knew about you all secret a lot longer... I was desperate because I knew to what extent he would have pushed himself to pressure me. And, most of all, I was desperate because I didn’t want anything to happen to you… B-But you wouldn’t leave. You wouldn’t understand that I wasn’t sending you away because I didn’t… Because I didn’t love you anymore…”

Mingi pulls out a handkerchief, with his initials embroidered in gold thread on the corners, and hands it to Hongjoong to dry his tears and clean up his face.

“You dumb fuck, you can’t be serious. Did all of that really require stabbing and mutilating me? Did you think that I wasn’t good enough to keep you safe? Did you think we would have left you on your own to face your fate, if you’d have told us? You're just... incredible, Hongjoong, fucking incredible. -Mingi pulls away from the soft grip of Hongjoong’s hands and turns away from him, storming around the room while hiding his face in his palms and nervously breathing- Did you _really_ think that Youngjo would have scared me? Did you think I wouldn’t have been capable to shot him dead anytime, if I wanted to, if I had known right away what he was trying to do to you? I’m many things, Hongjoong, but I am not an incompetent and I am not an amateur. I’m not gonna allow you to put the blame on me, because you know what, fuck you! You’re not allowed to play the victim when you’re the one who stabbed my back and slashed my face, when you’re the one who kicked me out, when you’re the one who didn’t even make a bloody phone call to ask me if I was even alive! And do you wanna know what baffles me? That after all we had been through… After all the promises made and the words said and the plans and the oaths and the love… _You didn’t trust me._ Because, if you had trusted me, we could have faced it and solved it. Together. That’s what couples do, Hongjoong. And what hurts me the most is that you had deliberately decided to cut me off, when you knew that I would have done anything for you. _Anything_. I would have been at your service. I would have given my life for you. I would have never deserted you. I would have been willing to set the world on fire if you had asked to. I would have been there for you, Hongjoong, until the bottom line, until the final hour, without asking for anything in return, if not to be loved by you just as how I love you!"

The more Mingi speaks, the more his voice gets loud and frenzied, until, without even noticing, he finds himself screaming and spitting out words burdened with an ancestral grief. 

When he finishes, he flops down on the chaise longue, holding his head in his shaking hands, as pale and cold as a corpse.

Hongjoong stares at him with trembling eyes for a few seconds, intimidated and frightful, but that’s the thing, with Mingi: for as much as he tries to resist it, there’s an incomprehensible pull that always drags him towards him, like a string wrapped around his heart begging to be rejoined to Mingi’s one, where he belongs, and the sight of him sobbing, so frail, so vulnerable, only increases this urge, until Hongjoong gets up and tiptoes towards him, until he’s standing in front of Mingi and realizes he just doesn’t know what to do. But once again, he doesn’t need to think, because his hands dare doing what his mind would forbid him to, and before he knows he’s gently running his fingers through the red locks and crying together with the man he has sworn himself to love until his dying day. Then, Mingi wraps his arms around his waist and hides his face against his abdomen, searing hot tears soaking his precious red robe and fingers digging deep in the flesh of his back, while Hongjoong curls up to embrace him in return, crying as well, and whispering soft shushing sounds in the ear. After an uncountable amount of time, when their bodies stop shaking, they both gather the courage to look at each other’s face, breathing heavily, until the consume every residual inch of air standing between them and their lips meet in a desperate kiss. It’s all but romantic, at least at first: there’s teeth clashing, lips getting bitten, nails digging on skin in the dire need to pull their bodies closer and closer, as if any millimeter of distance was an infinity, as if their lives depend on how near their hearts are, as if they could only breath from each other’s mouth. It gets sweeter, but never any less passionate. Never any less needy. Never any less forlorn. The room get quickly filled with their sighs and their whispers, as their hands carelessly rip away fabrics, unfasten belts, pull apart buttons, and their bare bodies are eventually set free from any other layer that is not their skins brushing one against the other. All of a sudden, Mingi grabs the back of Hongjoong’s thighs and lifts him up, while Hongjoong tightly holds himself around his neck, and lays him on the desk, after hurling everything on top of it with a blow of his arm. He takes a moment to contemplate the beauty of Hongjoong’s disheveled body, completely at his mercy, ready for him to take. Mingi runs his fingers along the side of his chest, making him wince expectantly at the touch, and fumbles with his lace garter where, to his surprise, he finds a thin, sharp dagger. Mingi looks at it for quite a while, before turning to Hongjoong with a raised eyebrow.

“Old habits die hard, uh, babe?” He says, almost menacingly, before crawling along the curves of his body with the dagger’s edge and indulging with it along the hems of his lingerie, going back and forth while palming his crotch and feeling Hongjoong getting harder under both the heat of his hand and the coldness of the blade. Then, with a few, quick strokes, he cuts away the thin fabric of his panties and is left in front of the sight of his fully hard, pink-hued, leaking dick.

“You already there? -Mingi asks, perplexed- It used to take you a lot more. Feeling the burden of old age?”

“Oh shut up, like I wouldn’t know how much this makes you gloat. -Answers Hongjoong, grabbing him by the nape and pulling Mingi on top of him, to straddle on his thick thigh. -And it’s not called old age, rather… Sexual maturity.”

“Really? Tell me about it, peach…” Mingi retaliates, as he quickly spits on his fingers and slides one inside of Hongjoong, making him suddenly suck in the air and moan as loud as ever. Gosh, had he missed those moans… 

There’s something, in Hongjoong’s voice, in the way he sighs, in the high pitched tone of his moans, in the little mewling sounds slipping out of his pretty mouth, that just makes him lose his mind, obsessing over the may ways he wants to ruin him and how much does he want to indulge in his body. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it, keep riding my thigh… Look at me -Mingi orders, grabbing Hongjoong’s face into his strong hand to look directly into his big, warm, chestnut eyes, already glazed with tears of pleasure- Don’t stop. Don’t you dare. Understood?”

Hongjoong presses his wet lips together, without taking his eyes off of him, and nods in understanding. 

Without a moment of hesitation, Mingi instinctively opens the first drawer on the left. That’s where Hongjoong used to keep the lube, back then when they were still together, and thankfully he knows how much of an habitudinary person he is. There, he finds a brand new bottle, still sealed. Mingi pulls away the lid and squeezes a, to be kind, generous amount of it on his fingers, rubbing it around Hongjoong’s rim and making him whimper at the cold touch, quickly followed by one more finger sliding inside of him to better stretch him, while he keeps rocking his hips to chase pleasure against his thigh. It usually would take a lot longer for him to get off, but it has been so long from the last time he had him touching his body like this and doing those things to him, that he comes with a loud moan all over Mingi’s skin. 

“I’m sorry… -Hongjoong whispers- It’s been way too long from the… the last time I… We…”

Mingi looks at him, confused, and gently caresses his hair while still moving his fingers inside of him, slowlier, to allow him to pull himself back together.

“Do you mean that…?” He asks, softly, feeling a weird sense of tenderness when he sees the embarrassment and that innocent shyness flourish on Hongjoong’s face.

“Mingi, how… How could have I done this with anyone but you?” Hongjoong says under his breath.

Mingi leans in to kiss him once more, sweet and gentle, clinging with his plush lips to Hongjoong’s ones, letting him nibble and suck on them for as much as he wants, endeared, feeling inside his chest a spark of life he had been missing for the longest time. Though he would very much want to deny it, he can’t help but admit, at least to himself, that he only feels alive when he’s with him. It’s always been like that. Hongjoong has always been that, to him: a spark of life lighting up his existence, and like many other things, it hasn’t changed. Not a bit.

These and many other thoughts are suddenly broken by Hongjoong’s voice pulling him back to reality.

“Mingi?”

“Mh-hm?”

“I don’t think I have ever stopped loving you.” He whispers softly to his ear, a kiss on his earlobe following his words like a seal on an oath.

“Don’t speak nonsense, Hongjoong… You’re high on endorphins…” Mingi tries to push back his declaration, wholeheartedly refusing to believe the truth, but Hongjoong doesn’t seem to be willing to accept a refusal or for his words to be belittled.

“I’m high on you.” He insists, pulling Mingi’s face towards his own to kiss him, once more.

And once more.

And once more.

And once more, until Mingi loses count of all the kisses and eventually finds himself believing that, yes, that spark in his chest is back, and that maybe this time, this time it’s here to stay with him, until the very end, if he’ll be able to take enough care of it.

The kisses don’t stop coming, flourishing all over their mouths, their jaws, their necks, until they turn into red love bites, into long trails of glossy saliva and into bruised blossoms marking them all over. Mingi’s fingers move faster inside of Hongjoong’s hole, his insides feeling softer and looser, ready for him to conquer and mark as his own.

“Baby… -Mingi whimpers, incapable to tame his painful erection- Baby… Please… Can I…?”

“I thought you’d never asked.” Answers Hongjoong through his breathy sighs, impatiently waving his hips, eager for his hard dick.

Mingi eventually pulls out his fingers and aligns his promptly lubed shaft to Hongjoong’s hole.

He slowly pushes inside of him, taking short breaks to allow him to adjust to his massive girth, before fully penetrating him with a relieved and pleased sigh.

His thrust are slow and constant, at first. Hongjoong welcomes every single push with a warm mewl, feeling himself gradually loosening up and being ready for something more. He digs his nails in the skin of Mingi’s hips, making him wince at the pain but growl at the arousal. That’s when Mingi understands. That’s how he always knew, and this time is no exception. His pace gets faster and his thrusts get harsher, as he gets even more aroused at the sight of the bulge of his cock rising on Hongjoong’s smooth tummy every time he pushes himself inside of him. That kind of thing has always had such an untamable, hypnotizing effect on him… And even though he would like to keep his composure, or to at least be able to withstand for a little more, Mingi finds himself so raptured and so primally horny that his calm thrusts become feral slams, fueled by Hongjoong’s needy moans filling up his ears, by his hot insides stretching out so well for him, by the small tears forming at the corners of his eyes, by the red tint his lips assume after all the biting, by his sharp nails ripping his flesh and leavin long, bloody streaks all over his back and his hips, to the point that his sight gets blurry and that he needs to let out a loud roar the moment he orgarms in seraing, endless waves inside of Hongjoong, followed up closely by him sprinkling white, messy pearls all over his abdomen.

With his last strengths, Mingi picks up Hongjoong once again and lays on the chaise longue, completely naked, wet all over with sweat, droplets of blood and streaks of come, holding Hongjoong tightly against his chest, their hearts beating as one.

They stay like that for minutes, or maybe hours, for that matters, not saying a word, just breathing, occasionally kissing each other and mindlessly caressing each other in the most gentle aftermath they possibly have ever had, too filled by each other’s presence to actually feel anything else but happiness and a deep sense of intimacy.

“I never stopped loving you either.” Mingi finally says, breaking the silence.

Hongjoong takes a deep breath, pinning himself up to look at him in the eyes with a melancholic gaze burdening his usually bright irises.

“Mingi, don’t leave me. I’m begging you. Don’t leave me, ever again, not even if I’d ask you.”

Mingi softly cups his face into his hand, brushing his thumbs along the sharp line of his cheekbones.

“I won’t. As long as you don’t stab me.” He playfully answers, earning himself a harsh bite on his lower lip.

“Well, apparently that didn’t work either, since you’re here tonight, right?”

“Definitely not, since I’m here to stay.” Mingi says, pulling him again inside the strong hold of his arms.

His little spark of life is back.

And Mingi is definitely not prone to let anyone take it away from him.


End file.
